


Dead Ends

by Aris



Series: Marvel One Shots [4]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: ??? - Freeform, AU, Angst, Character Death, Drugs, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Warning: 80s, doesn't make a lot of sense, little bit messed up, not really sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 07:44:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aris/pseuds/Aris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>'I'm glad I didn't die before I met you,'</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Ends

Tony doesn't know how it ended so badly.

Well, that's not true, but it didn't seem too bad at the start, at these things tend to. Slow poisons. It was 1986 and Loki was all long limbs and scandalous expanses of smooth, white skin, eyes black with eyeliner and hips adorned with ink and chains - the latter which let out a low tinkle when he walked, that intoxicating swing of slim hips that always drove Tony straight up the wall. He was one of the leftovers of the 70s, a wildcard with a wicked grin and ripped denim jeans, aways in that black leather jacket and caressing a slim cigarette between his lips, like it could be anything better than the air. 

It was 1986 and Loki was the kid at university who didn't have a dorm, rather crashed from place to place every night, going nowhere with a dazed layer sheening over his green eyes, Tony remembers it being something like happiness but estranged. The emotions of a different person. He was so cut up Tony had never been sure if the smile was really his, or if he meant those heated, powdery words that scattered all down his spine, soothing and spiking. There was a curl to his tongue that was reminiscent of barbed wire, and he talked and talked about dead poets that Tony had never heard of and Loki didn't care about, he sketched out death in the ceiling of Tony's apartment, fingers skeletal and pale as he described the rivers to hell, the pits to heaven, the traps woven by a promise of an eternal land. He adored all that didn't matter, all that lead to nothing, like some sick reflection of his future. He'd toss and turn on Tony's bed, pupils blown and lips tugged up sadistically, promising a memory from his childhood webbed with humiliation. Like it explained everything.

Sometimes Tony couldn't listen to Loki, the swirling stories that wove and dived over stale air - he never knew if they were true or not, but Loki would still cry, still dig his nails hard into his arm, his leg, like blood spilled could really prove anything. Then he'd lean up to Tony, face all wrong and body posture too stiff to be relaxed and he'd ask, all low and faux charm, if Tony wanted him, his body. And Tony, too young for university but too clever for high school, wouldn't know what to say to the ghost of seduction, the false promises of a drugged up teenager. So Loki would laugh a little, offer a line and tell Tony about the time dear, lovely _daddy_ bent him over the bathtub and tried to fuck the gay away.

"Fuck the gay away," and Loki had laughed, collarbones shaking and the gaunt hollows of his face deepening, "He wanted to - _fuck_ the gay away."

Tony remembers the break in his voice, the way the skeleton was suddenly in his space, face adorned with that wonderful, skillful fox mask of deviance. The one Loki used to cover up everything.

"You know what was fucked up, Tony?" he had asked, "You wanna know what was so fucked up about it all, a father raping his son? Fucking the gay away?"

And Loki slumped, lines curving from sharpness, eyes blurring from drugs or tears Tony didn't know, onto Tony. His bones pressed sharply into his flesh, cold to the contact and so utterly dead Tony could have sworn a corpse now adorned him, draped over him like another surplus accessory. 

_"I liked it."_

His breath is hot in his ear, voice dissolving away, and it's all Tony can do to close his eyes, to clutch his beer bottle tighter. Loki doesn't laugh that time, Tony knows, he doesn't laugh like that ever again. He had gone still against his body, hands twitching with the waves of euphoria - and when Tony pushed him away, the green was so dark it was almost black, the flicks of unruly hair barely visible crossing his eyes. Beautiful.

It's all that Tony can think of now, staring down at Loki's pale face. That moment Loki had been happiest, pumped full of something impure and dumbed to the heavens, eyes dimmed along with the memories, body limp like a ragdoll. It was the bones of his face, salient as they dared, that seemed to soften in his drug-induced bliss, the way he'd search for someone, Tony had never been naive enough to believe he was the only one, to hold his hand, like the kids back in primary school did. An action so alien to Loki, that it would only manifest in his unconsciousness - a streak of innocence so surprising and burning that Tony would always have to gulp away the pain in his dried throat, to feel the beating of his heart through his own skin. 

Tony does it now, stepping down from the coffin, gulping around an unknown emotion that lodged itself somewhere unreachable in his throat.

Loki was gone. Like he'd always wanted to be.

Tony wishes he could be happy for him.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://norsed.tumblr.com)


End file.
